Bite My Lip
by Panny
Summary: He found that there are some fates worse than death, but with her help he just might survive this. vampire!Fred/Hermione. Yes, I'm serious. Just give it a try. You know you want to.
1. Discoveries

_About three things I was absolutely positive._

_First, Fred was a vampire._

_Second, there was a part of him - and I didn't know how dominant that part might be - that thirsted for my blood._

_And third, this sounded an awful lot like a teenage romance novel._

**AN:** I promise, no more Twilight quotes from here on out. This fic was written for my dearest Jack who is indeed a fan of the Twilight series, so I couldn't resist. I hope you enjoy vampire!Fred as much as you do Edward, hon! (even if he doesn't glitter) I'm also sorry it's a teensy bit late, but it's still a work in progress.

To everyone else, I hope you enjoy this fic. I did my best to keep it both original and in character given the story premise.

* * *

**Chapter One:** Discoveries

"It can't be. You're dead," Hermione stammered, her fingers clenching tightly around her wand as she began to back up.

"You're right," Fred agreed. "I am." He approached her slowly, an almost predatory gleam in his eyes. His lips parted, revealing too white teeth. He ran his tongue across them, pausing to curl around his extended incisors, and then everything went dark.

* * *

Four long months had passed since Voldemort's defeat at the hand of the infamous Harry Potter. In the wake of the infamous events, the papers had been overwhelmed with stories and articles as people clambered hungrily for information. There were numerous recounts of the Battle of Hogwarts to be told, along with the feel good stories of families reunited, reassuring statistics of imprisoned Death Eater's and the unavoidable profiles of those who had died.

_Fred Weasley, co-founder of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley, was part of the initial wave of attack on You Know Who's army..._

"Can't they even type the name Voldemort?"

Hermione sighed, looking up from the page to take a sip of tea. She had already read the profile numerous times and had finally reached a point where she could read it without breaking down. She found it cathartic to work through her grief by analyzing the text but this one had been by far the hardest, even more so than the double whammy of Lupin and Tonk's combined article.

Setting down her cup, she skipped further down the page.

_...remembered fondly by friends and relatives as a perpetually happy person known for practical jokes played with twin brother, George..._

George... She swallowed the last dreg of tea, the remaining liquid cool and overly sweet with settled sugar. She'd have to go by the shop and see how he was doing. According to Ron he still wasn't handling things well.

…_Mr. Weasley is buried on the Hogwarts grounds amongst other members of the now renowned Order of the Phoenix. He is survived by parents Molly and Arthur, and six siblings._

Tossing the paper to the far side of the table, Hermione stood. Fred had given far more than the majority of the population and all the Prophet could spare him was a single column on page 13-D in September. She was much fonder of the four page spread the Quibbler had dedicated to him in their first post-war issue, its glossy pages full of happy animated photos.

She placed her cup in the sink beside a few days worth of unwashed dishes and headed down the hall to her bedroom. She pulled on her robes without much care, deciding to take a walk through Diagon Alley and check in on George now while it was on her mind.

It was nice to be able to Apparate right from her flat without worrying about wards and safety. The first few weeks of having to walk half way through her new hometown of Ottery St. Catchpole before traveling had been an incredible hassle. Now she just had to step around the side of her building to make sure she couldn't be seen before disappearing.

She fought against her body's instinctive desire to stumble as she arrived outside the Leaky Cauldron, straightening up as nonchalantly as she could. She walked slowly, not eager to see the morose expression she was getting more accustomed to on George's face. She often thought it would have been better if they'd both been taken by death. Together forever.

The shop front was still spectacularly bright and animated, and it was a relief to see a fair amount of customers inside. No matter how he felt, George was still able to put on a look of happiness for the sake of the business. She wasn't a proponent of suppressing your feelings, but it wasn't good for him to wallow in them either. Sometimes a smile, even a forced one, could help.

"Hey George," she greeted as casually as she could manage. He looked up at her and shrugged his shoulders in response.

"Looks like you're still pretty busy. That's good."

"Yeah, I suppose," he agreed in monotone. "Ron's been pretty helpful, I have to admit."

"I saw him the other day. He's really happy he's gotten the chance to spend some time with you." She offered him a smile and wasn't surprised when he failed to return it. "If you need any help with stuff Ron can't handle like the accounting or anything, you'll let me know, right?"

"Doubt I will. I always handled that stuff anyway. Fred was more-" His voiced pitched several octaves higher before he broke off. He sniffed loudly and shifted his attention to the nearby Pigmy Puff cage for several minutes before turning back to her. "Thanks for the offer."

He attended to several customers while Hermione stood to the side, fidgeting slightly. When they were finally alone she spoke again.

"George, I know this is hard but you can't keep pushing on like nothing happened."

"Does it look like I'm doing that?" There was no malice in his voice, though he spoke harshly. "If this is what I was like before I lost the person closest to me, then please let me know."

"I didn't mean it like that."

George sighed, his shoulders sagging. "I know."

An awkward silence stretched between them until Hermione finally squared her shoulders and took hold of George's arm. "Right, you're closing the shop and I'm gonna cook you dinner."

Even his confused frown looked sad. "What?"

"You. Shop. Close. Now. Come on, do it." She gave him a push towards the door, glancing around to make sure there were no customers left. She forced a cheery smile as she faced him again. "You lock up and I'll be upstairs. I may not be the best cook in the world, but it's nice to have something homemade, right?"

She ran for the backroom, knowing it wouldn't take long for his confusion to fade and then he would likely kick her out for interfering. She hoped that once she got going in the kitchen though, he would let her be. Her feet pounded up the steps and she swallowed against the rising feeling of nausea that hit when she feared she was pushing too much.

The fridge was surprisingly well stocked, most likely by Mrs. Weasley, and she began pulling out an assortment of vegetables along with what looked like left over meatloaf. In the pantry she found a box of pasta and an unopened jar of tomato sauce. It would be a simple meal, but that meant she could get it done quickly, and that it shouldn't turn out too bad.

It didn't take long for her to find a large pot which she filled and set to boil. On the counter she set a knife to chop the vegetables, one of the few cooking magic skills she had learned, and threw the sauce into a pan. She was just breaking up the meatloaf into bite sized pieces when George came in.

"You're insane," he muttered, shaking his head. "I don't know how you wormed your way up here, but I'd rather you go."

"I managed to _worm_ my way up here because you're so distracted you're barely functioning," she told him sternly. "And I will not be leaving until you've eaten a good meal at the very least."

"Suit yourself." He sat in the empty armchair in the living room and made no further attempt to make her leave. She wasn't sure if she should take that as a victory or not.

George merely sat while she cooked, staring blankly ahead of him. It was painful to watch so she tried to focus on her cooking instead, hoping against all odds that it would turn out alright. When she accidentally flipped several vegetable pieces out of the pan onto the stove, she thought it may have been a better idea to come back with some takeout. The food she managed to get onto their plates looked fair enough at least.

"George, come on in!" she called, resuming her air of forced cheer. "Supper's ready."

She smiled warmly at him and he returned it weakly, the corners of his mouth barely turning up. "Looks edible at least," he commented.

"Is that all you have to say?" she huffed. "After I went out of my way for you and everything."

"I didn't ask you to," he reminded her, but she could see the slight play of a smile on his lips again.

"Yeah, well tough. Show a little appreciation or I'll have your mum over here to remind you of your manners."

George shook him head and began to eat, nodding his head in agreement to some unspoken thought. "It's pretty good." He looked up to stare at her for a moment. "Thank you."

"Thanks for letting me," she replied sincerely. "I know things are really hard for you, and I want to be able to be there for you."

They ate in silence for a relatively long while.

"Did you see the article?"

Hermione looked up, surprised that he would bring it up. "Yeah. It was really hard to read at first. Kept bringing up all these memories I didn't want to face."

George looked up in surprise then and frowned. "I thought you were handling everything just fine."

She shrugged. "It's hard for everyone George. There are some days I don't want to get up at all; when it feels like it's too much to handle. But I make myself do it anyway and sometimes the feeling doesn't go away, and other times it does. Either way I just keep pushing forward."

George nodded, spearing the remaining vegetables on his plate with his fork. "Just keep pushing forward."

"It hurts, and it's not fair and no one can know how hard it is for _you_, but if we just let ourselves wallow in misery, it won't do anyone any good."

He nodded silently and Hermione began to clear their dishes. "I'll get them," he told her, stepping towards the sink. "You should get home."

"Alright." She put their plates down, knowing she shouldn't push any further, and pulled him into a hug before stepping away. "Good night George."

"Night."

She let herself out, walking through the silent store and locking the doors again behind her. The air was beginning to chill and she was surprised to see that the sun had already set. Along the street flames flickered in their lamp posts and she shivered slightly. She began to walk and stopped, a hint of movement catching her eye. There in the alley she could barely make out a figure hidden in the darkness.

The person ran and she moved on instinct, drawing her wand as she rushed towards them. They rounded a corner and she pushed herself to move faster, afraid they'd Disapparate before she could find out who they were and what they wanted.

Pulling around the corner herself, she was surprised to see the hooded figure standing with his back to her. The alley was blocked off here but they could have easily Apparated. Judging by the man's frame, he was certainly older than seventeen.

"Who are you?" she demanded with forced bravado, but the person remained silent. "What are you up to?"

There was a low chuckle, its tone and intonation sounded off to her ears and she shuddered.

"So quick to assume I'm up to no good. Typical."

"Yeah?" Her voice was shaky now, but she gripped her wand in a steady hand. "What am I supposed to think when you run like that?"

"That I don't want to be seen, perhaps?"

"Sounds suspicious to me. Now, who are you?"

"Were you checking on George? How is he?"

Hermione blinked, thrown by his question before regaining her voice. "Is that why you were there? What do you want with him? Some sort of revenge? Or are you just a thief looking to rob the till?"

Again that crooked chuckle filled the dark alley. "Such narrow minded conclusions… Since when are you such a pessimist?"

"I'm a realist. Give me a reason to think otherwise and I will."

The man shifted slightly, pulling the hood of his cloak tighter. "Is there any chance you'll just walk away and leave me be?"

"Not even the slightest."

"Then I have no choice." He turned, gravel crunching beneath his boots as he came around to face her. She could make out little of his face beneath his hood, but as he pulled back the fabric, familiar features came into view.

Shaggy hair, longer than she last saw it and so matted with dust and tangles that the vivid red shade existed solely in her imagination. Green eyes, sharp and cunning, framing a smoothly sloped nose which led to lips once pink, now pale and chapped.

"It can't be. You're dead," Hermione stammered, her fingers clenching tightly around her wand as she began to back up.

"You're right," Fred agreed. "I am." He approached her slowly, an almost predatory gleam in his eyes. His lips parted, revealing too white teeth. He ran his tongue across them, pausing to curl around his extended incisors, and then everything went dark.

* * *

_For fanfic writers, there are two things that bring them joy: the creation of their work, and the response of its readers. Please take the time to review, not only this fic but any other you read. Thank you._


	2. Reality

**Chapter Two:** Reality

Hermione woke with a start, surprised to find herself in bed in her flat. Everything looked normal enough. She could even hear the sound of workers by the river coming in her partially open bedroom window. Had it all been a dream? It had to be. Fred had died. She'd seen it. She simply couldn't believe otherwise.

She did her best to recall the night's events and found that her memories were all vivid and clear. From her trip to the shop to her horrifying encounter in the alley, everything seemed legitimate and real. She shuddered as she sat up, finding that she was wearing the same clothing as the night before. Her head was also pounding.

She made her way to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was mussed from sleep and her eyes puffy. On her forehead she could see a small scrape and hints of a forming bruise. She had hit her head at some point, but she had no idea how or when. Perhaps that was when she'd started hallucinating. Yes, she must have tripped or something on her way home and hit her head. She managed to get home but her memories of it were faded from the injury.

It was a flimsy explanation at best.

Bottom line was: she still missed Fred and reading the Prophet's article had triggered some subconscious hope that he would be back. How that translated to picturing him as a vampire, she had no idea.

And he definitely _had_ been a vampire. His sharp teeth and gaunt appearance were dead giveaways, and she seemed to recall him agreeing when she commented on his actually being dead.

It was completely ludicrous to think it had been real, but she still found herself pulling out her old copy of _Voyages with Vampires_ by Gilderoy Lockhart. She had no idea how much of the information could be trusted, so she spent the second day of her weekend at Flourish and Blotts, combing the shelves for books on vampires.

* * *

"Hey Hermione," Harry greeted as he walked into her office at the Ministry on Monday afternoon. "What are you reading?"

Hermione snapped the book shut, putting it to the side of her desk. "It's uh, Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires."

"Working on some new proposal or something?"

"Oh, no. Vampires don't fall under the jurisdiction of the Magical Creatures department."

"Oh, so why the interest?"

"No reason," she lied, standing quickly. "Did you want to go get some lunch?"

"Yeah. Ron's meeting me at the Leaky. Thought you might like to join us."

"That'd be nice." She quickly gathered her things and fell into step with Harry as they walked towards the lifts. "How's Ginny?" she asked with a teasing smile.

"I, uh, I dunno," he stammered. "Why?"

"Well, I have it on good authority that she spent the last two nights somewhere other than the Burrow."

"Oh?" His cheeks turned a faint shade of pink. "Who'd you hear that from?"

"Mrs. Weasley, when she called me to confirm Ginny's alibi. Honestly, you think she wouldn't tell me she was shacking up with you?"

"We're not shacking up!" he refuted a bit too loud as the lift doors pulled open. An older man Hermione recognized from the Improper Use of Magic Office gave them an odd look as they stepped on.

"It's not a big deal," Harry whispered.

"I know that Harry, and I understand you wanting to take your time with things. You two didn't have the easiest of starts with the war and all. But if she keeps staying over, people will figure it out."

"Yeah, I know. We'll figure it out. What about you? How was your weekend?"

"Oh, you know. Plenty of reading," she answered vaguely. "I stopped in to see George."

"Oh…" There was a long silence covered by their apparition and entrance into the Leaky Cauldron. It wasn't until they sat at the table Ron was holding that Harry spoke again. "How is he?"

"As to be expected I suppose."

"Who are you talking about?" Ron asked, waving Tom over to take their order.

"George," Hermione answered morosely. "I made him dinner on Saturday."

"That's good," he told her, nodding grimly. "He needs someone to be there for him."

She shook her head slowly. "His entire family is there for him and he knows it. What he needs is a kick in the rear to get him out of his funk."

Ron scowled. "His _funk_? Is that what you call it after he loses his twin?"

"Of course not, but it's been weeks, Ron. If we keep coddling him, he'll never have to face it and then he'll never be able to get passed it."

"Since when are_ you_ such an expert?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Does this really need to be an argument Ron? I know you want what's best for George, but what's best for him many not be what's easiest. Don't you agree, Harry?"

Harry smiled sheepishly. "I guess I think it's really a family matter, so I don't want to get involved."

"Thank you." Ron grinned triumphantly. "At least Harry has some sense. You know you don't have to fix everyone in the whole world, Hermione."

"No, I don't, but I'll at least try for the people I care about. And you're right, this is a family matter, but if you don't consider Harry and I family, then things aren't as I thought they were."

Ron frowned and stared down at the table silently.

"I thought so," Hermione sighed. "Look, I don't feel all that hungry anymore. You two enjoy your lunch."

"Aww, don't go," Ron insisted. "You know I don't want you to."

"I know," she smiled. "You just can't get over that whole 'argue against everything I say' mentality you picked up when we were dating."

He blushed, a far brighter red than Harry, and fought back a smile. "Can't help it that you're always wrong."

"Don't you wish," she teased, smiling genuinely. "I really am going to go though. I have to stop by Eeylops to check on their housing standards, then get back to the office."

"Alright. Are you coming by the Burrow for lunch this weekend? Mum keeps complaining when you don't show up."

"I'll try. See you."

They both waved her off as she left, fighting the grumble in her stomach. She'd pick up something small on the way to the Ministry. Working through her lunch was better than sticking around for another argument. Ron meant well, but once he was upset it took a while for him to ease out of it and she didn't have the patience to tolerate it after her draining weekend.

She stepped out of the sun and into the dark confines of Eeylops Owl Emporium. Immediately the dozens of cages began to shake and the room was filled with hoots and screeches. The old man behind the counter jumped up and rushed over, glancing down at her robes.

"Ah, yes, you must be from the ministry, yes?"

"Yes, I am." She extended a hand out which he gripped firmly.

"Welcome, welcome. I have all the forms you requested right over here." He waved his wand at the counter, summoning the stack of papers while accidentally opening a line of cages. Three tawny owls were loose before he'd even realized, and the birds began swooping around the shop in a panic.

"Oh dear." The man set down the papers and his wand and moved to coax the nearest animal down from a display stand of treats. Hermione followed suit, laying her bag and wand on the floor before approaching a second owl slowly with a calming voice.

"Hey there," she cooed, extending a hand and moving towards it slowly. She recalled the number of times they'd had to catch Hedwig to get her in her cage for travel, and dearly hoped this wouldn't take as long.

She had nearly reached the owl when a jingle of bells startled it and it flew off to the opposite side of the store. She groaned and had to force herself to not glare at the gruff looking man who'd entered and set off the sound.

Ignoring the customer she ran across to the owl, hoping this time to catch it by surprise, but it took off long before she'd even gotten close.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about it, dear," the shop keeper told her with a dismissive wave. "They'll come down eventually once they're hungry."

Hermione frowned. "There's no way I can sign off on your paperwork while they're loose. If they're not in their cages before I leave, it'll be a problem for both you and me."

"Ah, I see. In that case it's best we get them down, eh?"

They worked together this time, Hermione distracting the owl as she approached slowly while the shopkeeper moved from behind to secure it. This time it only took three tries before the bird was safely in his cage.

They took a brief break while the offending customer's purchase was rung up, then went for the other two.

The second owl came down miraculously easy and seemed quite content to be back in its familiar cage. The third however seemed to enjoy its freedom, and by the time they'd managed to grab it and get her where she belonged, the sun was beginning to set.

Hermione wiped her brow, then took note of the time. Recalling the list of things she needed to accomplish before the end of the day, she quickly grabbed her bag and the shops forms. "I really have to go," she said in a rushed voice, heading for the door and nearly colliding with a customer who was entering.

"Here, here!" the shop keeper called her back. "Got a fireplace in the backroom. Feel free to Floo back. It'll get you there much quicker."

"Thank you so much!" She smiled gratefully and dashed through to the back, tossing the powder into the flames and stepping in. She watched the passing grates, trying to keep her eyes focused until she could step out into the lobby of the Ministry. It was a relief to see a healthy bustle of activity despite the late hour, and she was able to make it back to her office without incident.

The paperwork from Eeylops was her first priority since it was the last day of their deadline. She reviewed all of the information presented, making a few notations before filing them away. She'd have to send her report to the Recording Department in the morning when someone would actually be there to receive it.

She finished up a few more papers and gave another look at a proposal draft to make up for her slacking that morning, then decided it was time to head home.

It was already dark when she stepped out of the Ministry building, preparing to Apparate home. She reached for her wand, then frowned, patting her side. She checked her left hip in case she'd moved it at some point, then pulled her bag forward to riffle through it. Her wand had to be there somewhere.

As she set her bag on the floor she recalled having done the same thing earlier in Eeylops and smacked her forehead as she remembered setting her wand down as well. In all the confusion of capturing the owls, and her rush back to work, she'd completely forgotten.

Pulling her bag back onto her shoulder, Hermione headed back into the Ministry and over to the nearest fireplace. Grabbing a pinch of floo powder, she took the best route back to Diagon Alley.

She didn't get far down the dark street before a voice startled her.

"Ah, there she is. Such a careless girl to be leaving your wand laying about."

She turned and was shocked to see the man who'd entered Eeylops earlier that day and startled the owl.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she bluffed, reaching to her side as if to draw her wand. The man and his two companions laughed.

"Sweetheart, your wand's tucked all nice and safe behind the old man's counter, so don't even try it."

She let her hand drop and glared at the three of them. "What do you want? I haven't got any money or anything of value."

"Money? No no, we don't want anything like that." They all drew their wands, pointing them in her direction. "All we want is for you to die."

The men ran towards her and Hermione crouched down, arms over her head to defend herself from attack while she prepared to run. The opportunity to flee never came.

Just as soon as she bent, strong arms came around her middle and she felt a rush of air as she was jerked to the side. She struggled vainly to escape her captor's arms, but they held her firmly, carrying her down the street far faster than she could have run.

"Let me go!"

She swung her arms out, battering at their legs and making them stumble slightly.

"Damn it, Hermione! Cut that out!"

Hermione jerked her neck around, straining to connect an identity to the voice, but her position prevented her from seeing their face. "George?"

"Ha! Guess again, sweetheart."

"Can't be," she muttered, her head pounding from being jostled around. Suddenly her stomach lurched as they flew upward. Leaves rustled around her and finally the movement stopped. She clung to the arm of the man who held her, looking down at the distant ground. There was no way she'd survive a fall like that unharmed.

"You can sit up now."

She shifted out onto the tree branch awkwardly, her nails digging into the bark. Finally she turned to face him. Dirty hair; pale skin with the faintest of freckles; a wicked grin and the sharpest canines she'd ever seen.

Fred.

"Don't look so surprised," he teased.

"What do you expect when I'm grabbed up by a dead man?" she spat back, rubbing at her temple.

"I thought we covered the whole dead thing last time."

Hermione groaned, accidentally looking down in the process. Her head spun as she was hit with vertigo. "This is so not happening. It's all a bad dream."

"Bad dream? Ouch. Didn't realize you thought of me so highly."

"So that was really you the other night?" she asked resignedly, her disbelief evident.

"Yep."

She took a deep breath and released it in a sigh. "Okay then. If that's true, what happened? You were coming towards me and I can't remember anything else."

"You," he paused to emphasize the word, "went and fainted on me. Can't say I blame you though. It's best if you avoid me." He shifted slightly, expanding the gap between them. Hermione frowned and moved closer to him.

"But Fred-"

"Don't." He stood swiftly, his movement so quick that she half expected him to overbalance and fall right from the branch. He turned to look away from her. "I haven't… fed lately and you smell really tempting right now."

"Oh." She sat back dumbly, then scooted further away.

Here in the dark, outside the edges of Diagon Alley, and so high up no one would think to look, she was at his mercy. She'd never in her life thought to be fearful of Fred, or any other Weasley for that matter, so it went against her nature to do so now. Then again, she supposed, it went against his nature to stand there stoically instead of taking what he needed from her.

"I could go," she offered meekly.

"That's probably not a good idea. Those guys will still be looking for you."

"You think?"

"I know. They've been following you around the past few days. Last night I heard them talking about some Death Eater's who'd died in the final battle."

"So then, it's some sort of revenge or… Wait a minute, the past few days? Have you been following me?"

He shrugged. "In a way. I thought it was pretty interesting that you were living in Ottery St. Catchpole, so I guess that made me wonder what you were up to. Not many people I can see without risking being seen."

"How did you know where I live?"

Fred turned to her and rolled his eyes. "Man, has peace completely rotted that big brain of yours? I had to know where you lived to bring you home, didn't I? I checked your pockets to find your address."

"No need to be so insulting, you know. But, I didn't realize you'd brought me home. Thank you."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't going to leave you in the street or anything, was I?"

"I guess not, but you could have left me at the shop."

"Then George might have seen me, and even if he didn't, I couldn't get past the wards."

"I don't think he's changed them since… well since you died."

Fred shook his head and sighed. "No magic."

"Oh, that's right." Hermione nodded as she thought. "Vampires are non-magical beings. I wonder why that is?"

"Beats me."

"Wait. That means you can't Apparate either then?"

"Yep. Right pain in the arse."

"But then, how did you get me home?"

Fred turned and grinned, his teeth flashing white in the moonlight. "I ran."

"You… ran… But that's almost 300 kilometers away!"

"Is it? I wasn't exactly counting, but I'm not surprised since it took a while to get there. One of the very few benefits of this is that I don't tire too easily."

"Suppose you need something to balance the loss of magic."

"I guess… Look, it'd be better to wait things out for a while longer but I can't guarantee what I'll do in that time so I think it's time to go down."

"Oh." Hermione tightened her hold on the branch, looking back towards the ground. "I don't think I could climb down-"

Before she'd finished, Fred grabbed her, jumping straight down and landing with surprisingly little noise. He released her immediately and she hopped away, glancing at him apologetically for keeping her distance even though she knew it was what he wanted.

"This way." Fred led her back towards the back alleys of Diagon Alley, slowly winding their way until they'd reached Eeylops. "Go get your wand. I don't think they've been back here so you should be safe inside. I'll wait here."

"Uh, right." It was against her nature to enter the store without permission, but given the situation, she decided to ignore her feelings of guilt and got through the wards with practiced skill. Her wand was, as the man had stated, tucked away behind the counter. She grabbed it quickly then, thinking for a moment, scribbled a note to the shop keeper to let him know she'd gotten it.

She turned to leave and found she could hear voices just outside the exit.

"-last warning before I ensure you can never hold a wand again." That was Fred, his voice low and gravelly.

"Please. All of us against a scrawny pipe cleaner like you? Maybe we'll just have fun taking you out before we get the girl." It was the men from before. All of them were laughing. "You know, we _were_ just gonna off her quickly, but since you put us through so much trouble, maybe we'll have a little _fun_ with her first."

"Watch it!" Fred growled.

Hermione stepped through the exit doors, her wand at the ready. She wouldn't hide from these thugs, wondering if and when they might come back. She had to handle them now.

She wasn't prepared for the fact that they had come back with reinforcements. The three men she'd initially encountered were there, joined by what looked eight other men at quick count. Nine including the one she hadn't seen to her left until he had grabbed her, twisting her wrist so that she was barely holding her wand.

A flash of red shot past her and the man released her, screaming. Another man was coming at her from behind and she swung her wand towards them, shouting her spell and smiling in triumph as he was propelled backwards. The leader, the man who had first approached her that evening, and whom she'd heard talking before she came out, shot a spell in her direction, disarming her. She scrambled for her wand, the air rushing out of her lungs as he collided with her, knocking them both to the ground as his men rushed forward.

"Get off of her!"

Hermione barely recognized Fred's voice as he yanked the man back. She lunged forward to grab her wand, a cacophony of shouts and screams from behind disorienting her. She turned, still kneeling on the pavement, and saw the men all running. All but two at least. The man who had first grabbed her was laying on his side, his hand clamped over his neck. She swallowed hard at the sight of the thick red blood oozing out between his fingers.

Then there was Fred, holding their leader in a vicious grip. Her mind refused to put words to everything else he was doing. Her vision blurred and she blinked rapidly, forcing herself to remain in control.

She watched as the man slowly gave up his struggle and went limp. Fred didn't let go.

"Stop it!"

She jumped, startled at the sound of her own voice as it echoed in the quiet street. Fred – no, she couldn't call this Fred – faced her and she turned away in horror. He was angry… angry and hungry. She couldn't have expected otherwise, but to actually see…

There was a loud thump and she looked up. The man was still alive, moaning and holding his throat in a similar fashion as his comrade. Fred had wiped his face with something, most likely his already stained cloak, and was staring at her with a forlorn expression.

"Are you okay?" he asked, stepping towards her. She flinched involuntarily and he stopped his approach.

"Y-yes. I'm fine. I should go."

Hermione didn't let him respond before turning and Apparating to her flat. She was alive, which was something that hadn't been guaranteed earlier, but she was definitely worse for the wear. She ran the faucets in her bathroom, scrubbing at unseen stains that hadn't been on _her_ hands. She couldn't close the vision from her mind.

She was still shaken even after cleaning up and changing for bed. She double checked both the wards and muggle lock on her door and windows, and got half way through making a cup of tea before she gave up on it. Climbing into bed, she wondered if Fred might be somewhere outside, looking up at her window and watching out for her in his way.

She didn't know if that idea reassured or terrified her.

* * *

_For fanfic writers, there are two things that bring them joy: the creation of their work, and the response of its readers. Please take the time to review, not only this fic but any other you read. Thank you._


	3. Connecting

**AN:** This chapter came out a bit short, but the next one will make up for it with it's v!Fred/Hermione goodness, promise ^_~

* * *

**Chapter Three:** Connecting

It took all of Hermione's self control to not run to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes the next morning to tell George that she had seen Fred.

Her desire to tell him had been hampered by two things mainly. The first was her belief that she may have been going crazy and imagined it all. The second was what she had seen the night before. She knew George was hurting, but she worried that seeing Fred as he was might only hurt him more.

Instead she pushed thoughts and memories of Fred to the back of her mind and packed two lunches, intending to stop by and see George on her break with no motive other than to say hi.

She reminded herself repeatedly that she would not tell George, taking up a mantra of "say nothing," under her breath until one of her colleagues finally took notice.

"So what are we not saying?" Terrence Phillip, of the Recording Department, teased as he dropped in to pick up her regulatory forms.

"Nothing, nothing," she said dismissively, taking a quick glance at the clock to see it was just about lunch time.

"Is that right? Because I heard there was quite an incident at Eeylops yesterday."

She stared at him in shock. "How did you...?"

"Something about an escaped owl, right?"

He missed her sigh of relief and continued talking.

"Meredith said you got back here pretty late so I'm guessing you stopped to help. You really are too soft you know." He smiled gently and she grinned in return.

"What can I say? I can't help helping people."

"That could get you in trouble you know." He leaned against the edge of her desk, shifting around her papers for the sole purpose of annoying her.

"Trust me, my friends have already warned me about that."

Terrence pouted, sandy bangs falling into his eyes. "What, you don't consider me one of those friends?"

"At the moment, no. I may revise my opinion when you stop rearranging my bloody desk."

He stood with a teasing smile. "You're too easy. You need to relax a little. How about I take you to lunch?"

"Sorry Terrence, I'm afraid I have plans."

"Oh, not Potter and Weasley again? You need to expand your circle of friends."

"No." she grinned widely. "I'm actually having lunch with a rich, devilishly handsome entrepreneur."

"Should I be jealous?"

"That's up to you, but I'm certain any woman who finds out will be."

Hermione gave him a winning smile and ducked down to grab the lunch she'd prepared. "Don't wait up, dear," she teased as she walked past him.

* * *

She made her way out of the building quickly, checking more than once to be sure she had her wand, then Apparated to Diagon Alley.

Unfortunately the shop wasn't the same bustle of activity it had been on the weekend, and she could see George moping at the counter from outside. Putting on a brave smile, she stepped in.

"Good afternoon George! Don't you look cheery?" She practically skipped up to the counter, knowing he would see right through her act no matter how subtle, and plunked down lunch.

"I may not be the best cook, but I can at least handle sandwiches," she told him as she began to remove the contents of the bag. "You like roast beef, right?"

He shrugged and she pushed a sandwich in his direction.

"You don't have to do this," he groused, unwrapping his food reluctantly.

"And you don't have to keep shutting everyone out. Which one of us do you think will give up first?"

A slight smile graced his lips. "I dunno. I'm right but you're stubborn. It could go either way."

"Hmm, stubbornness always wins out in the end. Of course the Weasley boys are some of the most stubborn I've ever met."

The unintentional reference to Fred as part of the collective "boys" hung in the air.

"Right, anyway," she plowed on. "How's the sandwich?"

"Fine, I suppose," he mumbled, taking a bite.

"Honestly, I go through all the trouble to bring you lunch and all I get is a fine." He looked at her and raised a brow. "Okay, fine," she relented. "It's not like you asked or even wanted me to do it, so I can't complain."

With a soft smile she gripped his shoulder. As he looked down at her, she was suddenly reminded of Fred and she shivered visibly.

"You cold?" he asked, attempting to throw his arm around her playfully but somehow managing to fall short. Instead his arm slipped around her shoulder far more gently. Not wanting to shrug off the rare moment of closeness coming from the recently closed-off Weasley, she hooked her own arm around his waist and pulled him in for a hug.

"No, just reminded of something. Thanks for the concern though."

"Yeah, well…" He trailed off awkwardly, letting his arm fall and turning back to the food on the counter. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

"I do get a lunch break, you know."

"Really, I hadn't heard."

"Yes. It's designed to keep employees from starving to death."

"Oh… Is _that_ what happened to Verity?"

Hermione gaped at him in mock shock. "Dare I say it? Was that… a joke?"

He tried to hide his smile. "It's been known to happen."

"Not often enough," she told him, giving him a playful nudge.

"Yeah, well, I'm working on it."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Good, I'm glad." She smiled tenderly, then raised on her toes to kiss his cheek. "A little humor will do you good. Certainly better for business."

"It all comes down to the Galleons for you, doesn't it?"

"Of course," she teased. "Haven't I mentioned that I'm charging for these sessions?"

"Hmm, no. Must have slipped your mind."

"Silly me. I'll be sure to bring you a bill next time." She popped the final bite of her sandwich into her mouth, relishing both the taste and the relatively lighthearted atmosphere that had developed.

"Thanks," George said suddenly, his voice serious without sounding as depressed as it had in recent days. "You're the only one who treats me normally, instead of like some charity case they have to tiptoe around."

Hermione sighed. "They all care about you, and they're worried – legitimately I might add. It'd hard for them to see you like this, and they care too much to force you."

"Yeah, I know. It's annoying just the same."

"Well at least you have me."

"Yeah, I have you." He smiled lightly and gave her a quick hug. "Thank you, Hermione."

"See you for lunch tomorrow?" she asked when he released her.

"Don't push it."

With a laugh, she picked up her bag. "Fair enough. I'll come by on the weekend though?"

"Sure."

* * *

_For fanfic writers, there are two things that bring them joy: the creation of their work, and the response of its readers. Please take the time to review, not only this fic but any other you read. Thank you._


	4. There You Are

**AN:** As promised, here's your healthy does of Fred/Hermione goodness. I like toying with the darker aspects of Fred being a vampire, but the boy wants to be so darn cute and likable, I can't help but indulge him

Also, I know I promised no more Twilight references, but I suppose the whole werewolf/vampire bit in this chapter comes from that. I'm certain that dynamic exists in other supernatural stories, but that's what influenced it here. I _had_ thought it was present in HP as well, but research shows it was actually centaurs who have disdain for vampires.

* * *

**Chapter Four:** There You Are

When Hermione got home that evening, she was still in good spirits after her relative breakthrough with George. As a result, it didn't faze her when she caught sight of movement out the window at the back of her flat. She felt the familiar instinct of fight or flight, but she ignored it and ran forward, flicking her wand to open the window.

"Fred Weasley, you get back here right now!" she shouted, hoping the neighbors wouldn't think she was completely mad. Less than a minute later, he was staring her in the face. She jumped back slightly, quickly schooling her features to hide her momentary fright at seeing him again.

"You bellowed?" he teased.

"You prat." She stepped back from the window. "Come in here."

He frowned, glancing at her curiously. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she sighed. "No matter what happens, you're still Fred, so come on."

He grinned, popping through the opening with ease. "I'm impressed. Not too many would spend so much time around a vampire."

"It's not that big a deal."

"Yes, it is." His smile disappeared and he shifted further from her. "I thought you'd have garlic hanging on your front door by now."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's just an old superstition. Besides, you're not the first vampire I've met."

"I'm not?" He turned her, concern evident in his face. "How'd you survive the first one?"

"To be honest I was more concerned with avoiding my date." She laughed at his confused expression. "It was at a party. Vampires aren't as ostracized as you seem to think."

He rolled his eyes. "We suck people's blood to survive. I doubt that goes over too well."

"You're right. Not everyone is open to the idea of vampires mingling in wizard society, but it's all prejudice. I mean. you're protected by the law as a non-magical being. Mind you, Bill may not take it too well..."

"Bill?"

"Well, I don't know how much the bite from Greyback affects him, but werewolves hate vampires. In some legends they're known as each others only adversaries. So, if that's something bred in, it could affect him. I don't think Bill will want to kill you, but he may not enjoy your company. Teddy might have an aversion to you, too."

"You know an awful lot about vampires, you know?"

She shrugged. "I did my research. What else did you expect? _Blood Brothers_ was exceptionally helpful. The author is good friends with Sanguini, the vampire who was at that party."

"What party was this anyway? Some magical creatures great and small gathering?"

"No. It was Professor Slughorn's Christmas party in my sixth year."

Fred gaped. "They let a vampire into Hogwarts?"

"Yes. So you see what I mean? It's not as bad as you think. I'm sure your whole family will be thrilled-"

"No." His jaw clenched, and for a moment she thought he might head right back out the window. As it was, he was gripping the will so tightly she could hear the wood creak.

"But Fred-"

"I said no. They can't know about this. Any of them."

"You have to at least tell George," she insisted, thinking of his morose twin and all that he'd suffered.

"You can't! Promise me you won't tell anyone."

Tears filled her eyes as she shook her head. "But why?"

"It's better this way. Let them think I'm dead so they don't have to know the truth."

"But it's not better. This has been so hard on everyone. Poor George has been-"

"It's better this way!" he snapped. "You've seen what it's like. You were terrified of me the other night, and you can't deny it. Now promise me."

Her lips trembled.

"Hermione, please promise me."

She nodded slowly, gasping as she fought back her tears. "You're an idiot for thinking that way, and it's cruel of you to let them think you're dead, but I... I won't tell. Not until you're ready."

"I'll never be."

"You will," she countered assuredly, straightening up and lifting her chin in defiance of the tears that ran down her cheeks. "I know it."

"Don't count on it. It's bad enough that you know about this."

"It's not that big of a deal. Yes, you're bloody vampire, but that doesn't matter as much as you think."

Fred grinned. "_Bloody_ vampire? Nice choice of words."

"Oh shut up. You're as bad as your brother."

"Comparing me to Ron now?"

"No. I meant you're as stubborn in your misery as George."

Fred shifted uncomfortably, staring off to the side, and Hermione suddenly felt pity for him. He was a complete disaster, clothes all a mess, his hair still as dirty and tangled as the first night she saw him.

"Look, you're a mess. Anyone would feel less human if they were walking around like you are."

"I _am_ less than human."

"I don't want to hear it. Once you take a nice shower and get some clean clothes on you'll feel much better and we can figure things out." She turned, gesturing down the hall to the open bathroom door.

"This is insane. Hermione, you have a _vampire_ in your flat. You should be fashioning a wooden stake, not... offering me toiletries."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Bite me then."

"What?!"

"See?" She gestured to his arms, which had immediately jumped into the air at her statement. "I don't think you could hurt me if you tried."

"I'm full," he answered crudely, making her shiver.

"Fine. So now is the best time for me to take my chances. Now come on."

She took his hand, surprised by how cold it felt in hers, and pulled him to the bathroom. Releasing him to turn on the water, she then spun to face him where he stood in the doorway. "Clothes off, take a nice shower."

"If you say so." he began to remove his shirt and Hermione's eyes widened.

"I didn't mean with me in the room!"

Fred shrugged. "You're less dedicated that I thought. Once you leave the room I'll just pop out the window."

"We're on the fourth floor."

"Point being?"

"Oh, you're impossible. Fine, be a jerk and make me stay in here. Let's just get this over with."

He grinned lazily, making no effort to preserve his modesty as he stripped down. Hermione glared up at the ceiling until she heard the shower door open and the sound of water splashing.

"There, is that _so_ bad? There's soap on the shelf and shampoo as well."

"Oh, did you want me to use those?"

She could practically hear his mocking smile.

"That _is _what most people do in the shower," she sighed, sitting on the closed toilet lid.

"And yet here I stand, doing nothing of the sort."

Hermione's patience snapped and she jumped up. "I swear you're like a five year old." Tearing off her shoes and socks, she yanked the shower door open, taking a moment to appreciate his shocked expression before remembering why this wasn't a good idea. Mainly because he was naked.

Steeling herself with a deep breath, she stared at a fixed point on his shoulder and reached blindly for the shampoo.

"You're getting water all over the floor," he teased.

Determined not to let him get out of this by embarrassing her, Hermione shrugged. "Back up then."

He stepped aside and she moved forward, warm water soaking uncomfortably through her clothes. Out of the corner of her eye she saw his eyebrows raise.

"Okay then," she started firmly, giving him a stern look. "Let's start with the hair. Now lean forward."

He tilted his head obediently and Hermione frowned. He was still too tall and the water would run right into his eyes like that. She shook her head. Why did he have to make things so difficult?

"Hold on." She opened the glass door and reached for her wand on the counter, using it to summon a plastic stool from the closet.

"Here, sit on this," she told him. "Face the wall and tip your head back."

"This is ridiculous," he muttered, and she held back a laugh at the sight of him. The stool was only about a foot high, intended for use as a small step-ladder, so his legs were bent out at an awkward angle, making him look like a frog. Or a boy with a rather nice arse that she really shouldn't be looking at. _Dead_ boy with a nice arse. Dead _man_.

She blushed and grabbed the shampoo, hoping she had imagined that little smirk on his lips as he glanced back at her.

She squeezed out an ample amount of the gel, then began to work it into his hair. It was more tangled than she realized, and she could feel the grit of dirt under her fingers.

"Geez, do you _sleep_ on the ground?" she joked.

"Occasionally." There was no hint of laughter in his voice and it caused her to pause before returning her attention to his scalp.

"Why?"

"I try to stay away from people. Don't always have many options."

Hermione sighed, reaching to pull the showerhead down. "Close your eyes," she warned before beginning to rinse his hair. "There _are_ other options, you know. If you had told us, things could have been a lot easier."

"I already explained why I didn't."

"Well now _I_ know. There's no need for things to be harder than they have to be."

Fred didn't respond and Hermione didn't push the issue, moving on to detangling his hair with liberal amounts of conditioner and a wide tooth comb.

"That stuff smells," he complained. "And you could be a bit gentler."

"Oh please. Mr. I'll-jump-out-the-window can't handle a little tug on his hair?"

"It's more than a little tug."

"Well, it's your own fault for letting it get this bad. And what's wrong with the smell? It's just coconut."

"It smells like chemicals. It's really overbearing."

"Baby."

She tugged the comb through the last stubborn knot, then ran her fingers through his now auburn hair, smiling at her work.

"You should wash it again, now that the knots are gone. It's a big improvement, but still dirty."

"Go right ahead."

Hermione sighed. "Do you have to be so stubborn? Is being clean really that awful?"

"No. Maybe I'd just rather have a cute witch playing with my hair than do it myself."

Hermione's nostrils flared. She was going out of her way to help him, and he was being a complete arse. Sneering, she turned the tap all the way to cold, pointing the stream at the tiled wall until it was freezing. With a smile she shot it over his shoulder towards his lap, laughing at his girlish shriek as he jumped away.

"That's not funny!" he yelped.

"And neither is your behavior. You're a man, now act like one. Soap up, because I'm sure as he'll not doing_ that_ for you, and if you behave I'll get you different shampoo and conditioner."

"Yes ma'am!" He gave her a beaming smile and she wondered how he could act so casually when he was completely naked. Continuing to avert her gaze, she readjusted the waters temperature and handed him the nozzle before stepping out of the shower stall.

Her clothes were dripping all over the floor but she stopped at the closet just the same, trying to ignore the cold air around her. "Do you want strawberry or green tea?"

"I dunno, let me smell them."

Rolling her eyes, she brought a bottle of each over to him. He literally gagged after smelling the strawberry, and gave a relieved sigh when he sniffed the green tea. "That one for sure."

"I figured as much. That one's organic; my aunt gave it to me for my birthday. Your sense of smell must really be heightened."

"It makes it easier to, uh..." He cleared his throat and took the bottle with a muttered, "Thanks."

"Sure," she whispered back, preferring not to think about what he had almost said. He closed the door and she quickly grabbed a towel before retreating to her bedroom. As soon as the door was locked she began to pull off her heavy clothes, tossing them into an empty hamper. She toweled off quickly and pulled on a pair of warm flannel pyjamas before grabbing the hamper and heading to the bathroom.

She could still hear the water running so she entered, calling out to him as she added his clothes to her pile.

"I'm gonna set these things to wash. I'm sure I have some of Harry or Ron's clothes around that might fit you."

"They're both too skinny," he called back.

"You'll make do," she assured him, not commenting on the fact that he was a fair bit thinner than he used to be. "It's got to be better than these ratty things." She eyed the threadbare cloak with distaste.

As soon as she had the clothes in the laundry, Hermione began looking through her closet for something that might fit Fred. She lucked out when she found one of Ron's baggy pyjama bottoms and an extra large t-shirt she'd been given for donating at a charity event. She left the clothing by the bathroom sink and settled onto her couch to relax, flicking on the telly to see what was on.

Fred emerged a fair amount of time later and she couldn't help smiling at the change in his appearance. He still looked rather pale, and his expression wasn't as lighthearted as she was used to, but he was clearly Fred now.

"You look good," she told him sincerely.

"Good. I did all this at your insistence, so I'd hate for you to be disappointed,"

"Oh, don't be such a pain. Come sit down." She pat the space next to her and turned back to the television, but he remained standing.

"You're joking, right?"

"No, why?"

"You want me to sit next to you. Just like that?"

"Why not?"

"Maybe because I'm a dangerous creature of the night?"

Hermione laughed and shook her head. "Please. Unmentionable eating habits aside, you're still you."

"Hmm, and what happens when you fall asleep and I get hungry?"

"Not gonna happen. You already told me you were full."

Fred let out an exasperated sigh. "Damn it, Hermione. This isn't a joke. I could seriously hurt you."

"But you don't want to?"

"Of course not."

"That's good enough for me. I have faith in you, even if you don't."

He stood stiffly for another minute before plopping into the seat with a growl. "It's not safe for you to be so comfortable around me. One day I won't be able to control myself,"

"That won't happen. But if it makes you feel better, I have my wand at my side and I know which hexes will affect you and which won't, so you can relax."

"Relax," he snorted.

"Do you want me to be afraid of you?"

"Well, no-"

"Good, because I don't intend to be so let's just leave it at that."

Fred stared at her for a moment, his frown relaxing into an expression she couldn't quite place before he turned to face the telly with a shrug. Deciding not to push him any further, Hermione merely gave him a small smile before settling back in her seat, her arm resting against his.

* * *

_For fanfic writers, there are two things that bring them joy: the creation of their work, and the response of its readers. Please take the time to review, not only this fic but any other you read. Thank you._


	5. Investigation

**AN:** Oh my goodness! Could it be? An update?! Yes, it is. Unfortunately, I must admit that it's short, and perhaps a bit unfulfilling as well as it's a bit of a transition piece. I had intended to add to this but, as those who have checked my profile know, I'm in school right now taking a very heavy course load so I have had very little time and/or inspiration to write. Because it's been way longer than I expected, I decided to post what I already had written, rather than leaving you guys with nothing for who knows how much longer. I will do my best to update again when possible, but it will probably be a (un)fair while before I can. For that I apologize. In the meantime, I appreciate your patience and am very grateful for all of your input and response so far. 3

* * *

**Chapter Five:** Investigation

Hermione woke the next morning to find she had fallen asleep there on the couch, and that her undead companion had gone. With a shudder, she realized that Fred was right. Maybe she _was_ too comfortable around him. No matter his intentions, he could lose control at any moment and it was up to _both_ of them to take the necessary precautions. It simply wouldn't do for her to let her guard down completely, leaving it all up to him.

Still, she couldn't help feeling that all her worrying, as well as his, was for naught. He'd said it himself more than once that he didn't want to hurt her, and he'd proved he had enough self control not to on that night in Diagon Alley when he'd rescued her. He was hungry then, but still he'd known his limits to keep her away, and held steadfast to his resolve when she was close.

But his control wasn't infallible. She was certain he hadn't intended to… feed in front of her like that. Even if he'd stopped when she told him to, for at least that instant he'd given in to his body's cravings. Neither of them could guarantee it wouldn't happen again when the two of them were alone. Despite all of that uncertainly, however, there was no way she could simply stay away from him entirely. Even if it was the safest option, and perhaps best for both of them, until he was willing to confront his family, she was all Fred had.

The sound of flames roaring in her fireplace snapped Hermione from her thoughts and she hoisted herself up from the sofa to trot over. Rubbing at a sore spot on her neck, she knelt before the hearth, relieved to see Harry there.

"Hermione, are you okay?" he questioned, frowning at her.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She quickly ran her hands over her tangled hair and straightened her clothes. "I just woke up is all."

"You just woke up? Are you sure you're alright? I mean you never sleep this late."

"Late?" Hermione leant back to glance at the clock on the mantle. "Ten o'clock! Harry, I'm late for work!"

Her best friend chuckled, shaking his head. "I know. That's why I was checking on you. Are you not feeling well?"

"No, it's not that, really." She bit her lip, wishing she could tell him it was because she'd stayed up until the morning hours, telling Fred all about the events he'd missed, like Ron becoming an Auror and the deaths of family and friends. "I got caught up in reading and fell asleep in my living room without an alarm set. I'll be in as soon as possible. Can you let-"

"I already told your boss I would find out what happened. I'll tell him you're on your way."

"Thank you, Harry."

"Anytime."

His face disappeared, the fire dying down to its usual low embers, and Hermione ran towards her bathroom to get ready. She didn't have time for a full shower, but at the very least she had to get her hair wet before she could tackle it, so she pulled the nozzle down while trying to avoiding getting her clothing wet. With a set of pressed robes over them, no one would notice she was wearing the same thing as the day before, and she wasn't about to waste precious minutes changing. The scent of green tea rose to her nostrils as the hot water hit the shower floor.

Her hair was still wet when she tumbled out of the Floo in the Ministry entrance minutes later with bits of ash clinging to the locks stubbornly while she tried to shake them out. She heard a sputtering and looked up to see Terrence removing his glasses to wipe them on his robes.

"I already showered this morning," he teased, "but thanks for the spray-down."

Hermione blushed, shoving her hair back as quickly as possible without shaking more water at him. "I'm sorry. I didn't see you standing there."

"Quite alright." He frowned for a moment, then his eyes widened. "My goodness, you're actually late. That hasn't happened in," he checked his watch, "ever."

"What can I say? I guess I'm taking a page out of your book," she said with a grin, not surprised when he followed as she headed towards the lifts.

"Ouch, such painful accusations. Are you on your way to your office?"

"Of course."

"Good." He smiled genially. "I'll walk you."

The lifts gate shuddered open and they both stepped on, Terrence staring at her quizzically. "So what gives, really, Miss Granger? You're_ never _late."

"It's nothing," she told him quickly, adding in a teasing, "Glad you're so worried about me."

"Should I be worried?" he raised a brow, obviously inviting her to confide in him. For a moment she was tempted by the idea of having someone outside the Weasley family to talk to and rationalize with, but this wasn't something she wanted to share with someone she considered a casual acquaintance.

"Of course not. I stayed up too late reading. Even _I'm_ allowed to be late on occasion."

"If you say so. And you're sure everything is alright?"

Hermione smiled at his concerned face. "I'm fine. Thank you though." After a brief pause she spoke again. "Actually there is one thing you could help me with."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"There's something I'm currently researching – I can't really discuss it just yet as it may go no where – but I've found the information available to be rather… lacking. Am I right in assuming that you have access to more …privileged documents?"

Terrence laughed and pat her head teasingly. "Ah Miss Granger. You've been playing me all along to get into my department, haven't you? My heart is breaking, even as we speak."

Hermione smiled at his teasing, even though she did feel a bit guilty for taking advantage of his kindness.

"I can't show you everything, mind, but I can get you into the lower level security wards if you'd like. Next week alright for you?"

"That would be wonderful!" She gave his arm a squeeze, then stepped out of the lift as the monotonous voice read off the list of departments on her floor. "I can make it from here, but thanks for accompanying me on the ride."

Terrence smiled and gave a small nod. "Any time."

As soon as the lift had closed, Hermione sprinted to her office. She pulled out the stack of parchment she'd tucked far back in the bottom drawer of her desk, rereading the notes she'd put together so far. Her talk with Fred the night before had mainly been about catching him up on family events, but it had turned a bit more personal and serious at one moment when he admitted to having tried to find a way to change back. As shocked as she'd been by his sudden appearance and how to handle it, her mind hadn't been idle over the past few days and the thought had occurred to her as well. Already she had read through the most obvious possibilities in the public archives and thanks to Terrence, she'd have more information available to her in the next week.

Fred had been resistant to the idea of her helping him, especially since he'd spent the better part of a year trying himself, but he had no argument when she pointed out that he wasn't able to use magic, which would likely be key. He still thought she was wasting her time, but she was sure she'd be able to find something. The process of becoming a vampire seemed to be part magical and part biological, so if she worked along the same vein in the opposite direction, it could possibly be cured.

Hermione imagined a grand family reunion at the Burrow. There would be tables and tables of food. Bright colored streamers everywhere. And everyone would be smiling. Fred would be there, back where he belonged and all would be right with the world once more. With that image in mind, she guilty pushed her ministry work aside and continued her research.


	6. Passing Time

**AN:** It has been over a year since I last updated this fic, and for that I apologize. I wish I could promise updates will be coming regularly but unfortunately I cannot. I've been out of any fandom for quite a while now and writing just doesn't come as easily as it used to. Be that as it may, I am committed to continuing and finishing this fic… eventually. I appreciate your patience and continued support in the meantime : )

Also, sorry for such a short chapter but I really wanted this scene to stand on its own.

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**Chapter Six:** Passing Time

Fred failed to reappear at Hermione's flat after the night she'd forced him to shower. Her best guess was that her falling asleep next to him had really put him at unease, and she couldn't blame him.

She did, however, expect him to show up eventually and began to grow concerned after three days of no contact. Even after the incident at Eyelop's he'd come by within a day, and she found herself unable to focus on any other weekend task. Eager to clear her mind and do something at least a little productive, she left early on Sunday morning to visit George, stopping at a bakery on the way.

When she arrived, George took a brief look at the pink box in her hands before shaking his head. "Sugar for breakfast?"

"Absolutely. I usually try to eat healthy, but Sundays are my one exception. Calories don't count on Sundays." She smiled genially while George rolled his eyes.

"Somehow I think there's a flaw in your logic, but I'm willing to accept it if there's a jam pasty in there."

"What kind of friend would I be if there wasn't?" She opened the box, revealing the mixed assortment of pastries she had purchased. The jam pasty lay directly on top as she'd know he'd ask for one first and foremost.

"You," he said emphatically, grabbing the pasty, "are an angel. Sometimes I think you know us better than the rest of the family."

Hermione blushed. "I'm certain that's not true. I just have a habit of paying attention to the details."

"No." George shook his head. "That's not all. You genuinely care about people. It matters to you that you buy a scarf in someone's favorite color, or bring just the right desert for breakfast."

"Thank you George. I… I don't know what to say."

He smiled gently. "You don't have to say anything. I just… I'm glad you're here. I just thought I should say that."

Hermione engulfed him in a hug, nearly knocking over a display of Muggle playing cards. "I'm glad I'm here too." She pulled back, looking over his relaxed features and brushing his bangs out of his eyes. "What's happened to you? It's like the weight is gone."

He shook his head. "No, it's not gone. But it feels a bit lighter with you around."

Hermione pulled back and gave him a gentle tap on the shoulder. "Glad to be of service. Now, how about those pastries?"

George stuffed his pasty in his mouth and reached into the box to pull out an éclair. "This yours?"

"Of course." She took it far more delicately than he had grabbed it. "How'd you know?"

"You always go for the ones with chocolate on top."

"And you said that _I_ know _you_ well."

George smiled, pulling the top off of a muffin and tossing the rest back in the box. "We were always observant. Makes pulling pranks far easier when you know your target well."

"That makes sense." Hermione bit into her éclair, then frowned. "But you've never pranked me, so why pay me any attention."

He shrugged. "Habit I guess. How are things at work?"

"Pretty good. I'm working on some research that could have… exciting results."

"Mmm. Magical Creature Regulation does get dreadfully exciting."

"Ha ha, you're so funny." Hermione stuck her tongue out, trying to fight back her smile. Eventually she cracked, her smiling only growing larger when George started to laugh at her. She felt a strange sensation as the sound of his laughter echoed through the store while her mind wandered to the fact that she'd have access to the ministry archives the next day.


End file.
